


Series 13: The Enemy Within

by HiNerdsItsCat (HiLarpItsCat)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 13, Bodyswap, Dark Thirteenth Doctor, Doctor Who Series 12 Spoilers, Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, Gen, I Saw The Whittaker!Master Tag On Tumblr And Got Ideas, Identity Swap, Jodie Whittaker is The Master (Doctor Who), Mind Control, Possession, Post-Season/Series 12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:15:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23602912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiLarpItsCat/pseuds/HiNerdsItsCat
Summary: A speculative version of Series 13 of Doctor Who, in which a version of the Master's consciousness followed the Doctor out of the Matrix at the end of "The Timeless Children" and proceeds to haunt her as a mental apparition.Features trauma, mind control, body-swapping, and The-Master-As-Played-By-Jodie-Whittaker.
Relationships: The Doctor & The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor & The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 63





	Series 13: The Enemy Within

_“Judoon Cold Case Unit. Fugitive: the Doctor. Sentence: whole of life imprisonment, maximum security facility.”_

And, just like that, the Doctor is alone in a prison cell.

The shock begins to wear off—it isn’t the first time she had heard about her previous regeneration’s fugitive status—and that is when the questions surface:

Why is the case still open? The Division is gone, long gone—

_(Ko Sharmus took your place in the final confrontation with the Master in the ruins of Gallifrey, ready to detonate the Death Particle to save the universe—)_

_(—yet another decent human who died in your place because you were a coward, because you couldn’t bring yourself to become—)_

—so there is no one left to pursue her.

At least for that: the Doctor can think of _millions_ of other entities that would be ecstatic to have her imprisoned for the rest of her life.

Next question: why _now?_ The version of the Doctor who had hidden herself in Gloucester disguised as a human named Ruth was thousands of years in her past, countless regenerations ago—

_(The Timeless Child: older than all of Time Lord civilisation, and who knows how long you had been alive before you tumbled into this dimension—)_

_(—you will never know, because there is no one left alive to tell you, no way of knowing if your forgotten lives had been happy or sad, if you had been good or evil—)_

—and the Judoon had never apprehended her until now.

Another question: how did they get inside her TARDIS? They shouldn’t have been able to do that; she had shields that kept out that sort of transmat-based technology.

But they _had_ gotten inside, which meant that they know how to circumvent Gallifreyan technology—

_(Isn’t it funny that you’re calling them Gallifreyans instead of Time Lords?)_

_(Isn’t it even funnier that you don’t count yourself as one of them?)_

_(You never belonged, did you?)_

—which also meant that they prepared this prison cell with someone like her in mind—

_(There is no one like you. There never was.)_

_(And you always knew on some level that you were different, that you were special—)_

—and that her escape is going to be much harder than she originally thought.

_(Got you. Finally.)_

Maybe it’s the panic, or the stress and trauma of the last few hours… no, probably days at this point… or maybe it’s the fact that she is alone with her thoughts for the first time in so very long… but the Doctor feels like she’s beginning to fray… to unravel.

She wonders if she is about to regenerate.

_(The Timeless Child: the one who introduced regeneration to this dimension. You always thought that you were stuck with the same thirteen-lives limitation as everyone else, but maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’re different—)_

_(—a little piece of you is in every single Gallifreyan… and they’re all dead now.)_

_(So why aren’t you?)_

Where are these words coming from? Why is she thinking these terrible thoughts?

“Because they’re not your thoughts.”

It’s him. The Master. He is in the cell with her, wearing the same garish purple ensemble as before, looking exactly the same as he did on Gallifrey.

The fact that he survived doesn’t bother her. He usually survives—and even when he doesn’t, it’s not for long. He always comes back sooner or later.

Still, she asks the obvious question: “How did you escape?”

And his answer is predictably cryptic: “I hitched a ride.”

“How did you get here?” She knows that if she asks enough questions, he won’t be able to resist the urge to gloat.

“Like I said: I hitched a ride.” He grins. “With you, in fact.”

She starts to suspect what he is implying. She moves closer to where he is standing and reaches out to touch him.

Her hypothesis is correct: her hand passes right through him. He isn’t physically here.

“Did you really think that I was just going to _stand there_ while you went on your little trip down Memory Lane in the Matrix?” he asks. “I was on a tight schedule: alliances to make, corpses to desecrate, universes to conquer… but it turns out that I don’t even need my entire attention to ruin your day, Doctor. I’m _that_ good—I can be in two places at once.”

He’s still so smug and she really wishes that he were corporeal so that she could at least give him a good flick on the ear, but she needs to figure out her current circumstances first. “So this is the part of your consciousness that was in the Matrix with me?”

“I knew you’d catch on eventually. Thanks for the lift, love.”

“Well, enjoy the view, because you’re just as trapped in this prison as I am.”

“Isn’t it funny?” he wonders out loud. “All this time, there was a piece of you inside of me… and now there’s a piece of me inside of you. And in both cases, we’re stuck together.”

“I would have thought that you’d be more upset about that,” she points out.

“I have access to all of your memories… all of your thoughts… all of your hopes and fears. At this moment, I probably know you better than you know yourself.” His grin is all teeth and hunger. “I can hurt you in ways you’ve never dreamed of. Constantly. Perpetually. Forever.” He giggles. “Won’t that be fun?”

She tries to shut him out… or at least shut him up. It works, for now.

But she has a feeling that he’s just biding his time.

* * *

The Doctor escapes from her prison eventually, though exactly _how_ is a bit of a blur. She tells herself that it was only the adrenaline and chaos that made the memories fuzzier than usual.

(Later, someone will access the security feed and witness a petite blonde humanoid carving her way through a platoon of Judoon like a blade through grass.)

Regardless, she is back in her TARDIS and returns to Sheffield to reunite with her friends. 

(She doesn’t talk about what happened in the Citadel. She doesn’t talk about what happened afterwards.)

She resumes travelling, though Yaz, Ryan, and Graham all begin to notice the changes in her demeanor. She is more short-tempered (and it wasn’t as though her patience was particularly abundant to begin with), twitchier, and—worst of all—scared.

Yaz is the first one to figure out that the Doctor refuses to be alone with any of them one-on-one.

Ryan is the first one to overhear her talking to someone who isn’t there.

Graham is the first one to make the mistake of bringing up the Master. Her furious response frightens all of them.

(She is frightening them more and more these days.)

She burns hot and cold. Her actions grow more ruthless. She deems casualties as acceptable losses. When she saves the day in an unfamiliar place and time, her companions don’t feel like heroes the way that they used to.

They don’t want to leave, but they also worry that there may come a day when she won’t _let_ them leave.

* * *

All this time, he has been taunting her, encouraging her fears and her viciousness, and cheering over the carnage she leaves in her wake.

_(“Become Death. Become me.”)_

At this point, it is more seductive than antagonistic. His voice in her mind is like familiar music, to the extent that she misses him when he’s silent.

Then there comes a day when there is a problem that the Doctor can’t solve. Maybe it’s the fatigue, or maybe it’s bad luck, or maybe she’s lost her way so badly that her instincts are shredded to ribbons.

Whatever the reason, in that moment she is weakened, and he has been biding his time.

_(Become Death.)_

_(Become me.)_

* * *

The next thing she knows, she is back inside the TARDIS.

She doesn’t remember what happened.

She doesn’t know where her friends are.

She doesn’t know where her original clothes are, because she is now dressed in an outfit tailored so sharply that it could draw blood.

She recognizes his love of vests, at least.

She discovers a mark on the back of her hand in the shape of a lipstick kiss.

A projection springs to life: her own face, but with eyes that she knows too well from the face of someone else.

The Doctor’s worst fears have come true: the Master took control of her body—and this probably wasn’t the first time, either.

 _“You clean up very nicely,”_ he teases her from her own mouth, indicating the new outfit. _“I did my best to make you look snazzy—it’s good manners to leave a place better than you found it.”_

He taunts her but says very little of substance. It’s just to show off, of course: his latest victory, his new upper hand, his new scheme come to fruition.

 _“It’s going to get easier over time,”_ the Master points out. _“Practice makes perfect, after all. And then you’ll be stuck in the passenger seat for good, watching me wow the little people of the universe with a very different version of the Doctor. It’ll be… what’s the word?”_

The Doctor didn’t even think her features could _make_ that kind of grin.

 _“Ah, I remember it now: it’ll be_ _brilliant_ _.”_

The Master holds up a tube of lipstick that the Doctor recognizes as the garish crimson that Missy preferred—it isn’t a surprise that she left one behind on the TARDIS at some point—and applies the colour slowly. He presses her lips to the back of her own hand. _“Kisses,”_ he purrs, her expression a mixture of triumph and teasing.

The recording ends.

Later, the Doctor finds her old clothes wadded up in a heap.

The fabric is stiff with dried blood.

* * *

It’s open war between them now: the Doctor fighting against an enemy that knows her every move, and the Master leaving no meter of ground untouched.

The collateral damage is obscene.

(She has a glimmer of hope remaining: her friends are safe in Sheffield. The Master hasn’t harmed them.)

The war reaches its climax.

She should have known his true plan right from the start. He had even said it flat out: _“I can be in two places at once.”_

The rest of him (for lack of a better term) is still alive.

Their confrontation is almost a relief. At least now there is a version of him that she can physically attack.

But that method quickly fades away. His hold on her mind is too strong after all this time.

She is forced to her knees while he stands over her and gloats. 

“Got you,” he says. “Finally.”

“You keep saying that,” she says drily, “and yet I keep escaping.”

“I took the wrong tactic before,” he replies. “It’s not often that I admit that, is it? But all of those other times, I tried breaking you from the outside. This time, I started on the inside… and it worked. Meet the enemy within, Doctor.”

“You can’t keep it up.”

“I have so far,” he retorts. “I’ve trotted you around like a puppet all the way from the other side of the universe. Up close, it’ll be so much easier.”

She stands up—or rather, he stands her up. He takes her hands and twirls her around like a dance partner. “This will be so much fun, Doctor. You and me, bringing the universe to its knees together—well,” he corrects himself, “it’ll mostly be _me_ and me. But I’ll let you out every so often: what is art without an audience to appreciate it?”

“This won’t work—” she tries to say, but he cuts her off.

“Oh, Master,” she hears herself say in a mocking imitation of her own voice, “I can’t _wait_ to stomp all over those puny little humans with you.”

There has to be a way to fight this, but she doesn’t know how. There’s a vulnerability in his plan, she can see it, but she’s trapped in her own body.

But she is more than just her body… 

She sees her opening: the Master isn’t the only one who can play around in other people’s minds.

The Doctor leaps without moving—

* * *

—and lands.

She can feel the aches and pains that he carries around with him, both fantastical and mundane. There is a scar at the center of him in the shape of the vanished Cyberium.

Trying to maintain a hold on his body as well as hers has taken a toll. He has overreached, he’s off balance, he’s vulnerable.

It isn’t difficult to give him a little push out the door.

All of the regenerations she’s had in her life—

_(Even more than you knew—)_

—have taught her something: how to adjust to a new and unfamiliar body.

The Master still has control of the other one: the cruel smile is still on her features even as her eyes widen when she realises what just happened. She starts running.

The Doctor flexes his new fingers, tries out his brand new grin, and chases after her.


End file.
